Flashback
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! Revenge is sweet. Especially when it means a man can steal the son of his enemy away from him.
1. Chapter One

"Where is it?" eighteen year old, brown haired, brown eyed Frank Hardy shouted over the howling wind at his year younger, blond haired, blue eyed brother Joe, as his eyes squinted against the blow trying to find a brick which they had observed someone throwing at their living room window.  
  
The boys had seen the brick thrower throught the window and had gone rushing to the door. They heard it hit the house, missing the window as they opened the front door and ran outside. They caught a fleeting glimpse of the culprit as he jumped into a black Corolla and sped off.  
  
Going over to the window, the boys looked around for the brick. "Found it!" Joe shouted, shivering as the forty mile an hour wind whistled down the street on the already cool evening.  
  
He bent down to retrieve the brick which held a sheet of paper attached with a rubber band around it. Reaching his hand to pick it up, he felt something cold and heavy fall onto him from above. Joe pitched forward on top of the brick as everything faded to black.  
  
"Joe!" Frank shouted, in fear this time. He rushed to his brother's side and shoved aside the metal lawn chair which had crushed onto his brother. He felt for a pulse. It was faint, but he said a silent prayer of thanks there was one. Ignoring the brick, Frank pulled his unconscious brother into a fireman's carry and took him inside. He knew Joe shouldn't be moved but he was in more danger from hypothermia and being hit again if he were left outside.  
  
Frank laid his brother on the sofa, yelling for his mother to call an ambulance. He then checked Joe's vitals again and pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa so that it would cover him.  
  
The boys' petite, blond-headed, blue-eyed, mother came rushing over to the sofa, the cordless phone in her hand. "What happened?" Laura demanded, her eyes wide and face filled with worry as she punched the numbers nine, one, and one again.  
  
Frank took the phone from her and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze. "This is Frank Hardy," he saiad to the emergency operator. "My brother was just hit by a metal lawn chair. He's not bleeding but he's unconscious and his pulse is faint. The address is 719 Elm Street," he informed her.  
  
"Keep him warm, keep checking his vitals, and don't move him," the operator instruced Frank. "A unit is on the way."  
  
"What were you two doing outside?" Fenton demanded, coming into the living room from the kitchen still wearing his coat.  
  
"When did you get back?" Frank asked in surprise, looking at his father whose looks mirrored his own.  
  
"In time to hear you tell what happened," Fenton replied, coming over and kneeling beside his youngest son. He checked Joe's pulse. "What were you doing outside?" he repeated his question.  
  
Frank explained about the brick. Fenton stood up and pulled his hood back on. "Stay with Joe," he ordered. "I'll go and get it," he added, leaving the room.  
  
When he returned, he was followed by two medics who rushed to Joe and proceded to give him a check up. They then moved Joe onto a stretcher and carried him to the ambulance waiting outside.  
  
Fenton asked Frank to drive and Frank and Laura climbed into the front seat while Fenton settled into the back with the troublesome brick in hand. As Frank followed the ambulance to Bayport General Hospital, Fenton removed the rubberband from the brick and then the paper.  
  
"What does it say?" Frank asked, glancing in the mirror and seeing the strained look on his father's face.  
  
"It's a message from Kevin Dobson," Fenton told his son and wife. "I sent his son to prison last year for trafficing in drugs. He committed suicide earlier this month."  
  
"What does the message say?" Laura asked quietly, positive she wasn't going to like the answer.  
  
Fenton swallowed before replying, "An eye for an eye. A son for a son," he read. 


	2. Chapter Two

"He couldn't have known Joe would get hurt outside," Frank argued.  
  
"Which only means you or your brother are still in danger," Fenton stated with a frown. "As soon as Joe's released from the hospital, I'm having you both placed in protective custody until I can get Dobson put away," he decided.  
  
"But you haven't got anything on him," Frank pointed out. "You can't put him away for one threat."  
  
"I've got more on him than that," Fenton assurred his eldest son. "He just keeps eluding me."  
  
"What did he do?" Laura demanded, turning around to look at her husband.  
  
"I am sure he was mixed up in the drug trafficing his son was involved in," Fenton replied, avoiding looking into her eyes.  
  
"And?" she asked, knowing her husband too well.  
  
Fenton gave a sigh of defeat. He hadn't really wanted to tell them but he knew Laura would not let the matter drop when the welfare of her family was involved. "He murdered the two guards who were in charge of his son's ward at the time of his suicide."  
  
Laura closed her eyes and swallowed, turning around to face the front once again as Frank entered the hospital's emergency parking lot. Frank parked the car and all three Hardys got out of the car and hurried into the hospital. They arrived in time to see Joe being wheeled into the back.  
  
Fenton walked up to the desk and took the forms to be filled out. When he had finished, he walked over and sat down beside his wife, taking her hand into his own. Fenton, Laura, and Frank sat silently, each lost in thought as the wind pounded against the window outside. Over an hour later, Fenton and Frank sprang to their feet. Laura followed suit more slowly as the doctor on call emerged from behind closed doors and approached the threesome.  
  
"How is he?" Frank asked before the stocky, brown haired doctor had even reached them.  
  
"He's still unconscious and he has a concussion but the cat scan found nothing amiss," Dr. Lymbock told the anxious group. "He will need to remain until he awakens from his coma," he added. "Then we will run a few basic tests to make sure he's in for a full recovery."  
  
"Thank God," Laura breathed. "Can we see him?"  
  
"Of course," Dr. Lymbock replied. "He's been put in room 422. I'm afraid only one of you will be allowed to stay the night with him however," he apologized.  
  
"I'm staying with him," Laura asserted, her eyes flying to meet Frank's, daring him to argue with her.  
  
They took the elevator to the fourth floor and went to room 422. There they saw Joe lying on the bed, his eyes closed, his body unnaturally still. The nurse arose from her chair as they entered. "Just hit the call button if he awakes or needs anything," she instructed before leaving.  
  
Frank smoothed Joe's hair back and leaned down, kissing his brother's forhead gently. "Wake up soon, baby brother," he whispered softly. "I love you," he added, before backing away.  
  
Fenton took Frank's place and gently squeezed Joe's hand. He gave Joe a quick kiss on the forehead then looked over at Laura who took the chair recently vacated by the nurse. She picked up Joe's other hand and looked up at Fenton.  
  
"Call us if he stirs," Fenton told her, moving over to give his wife a kiss goodbye.  
  
"I will," she promised.  
  
Fenton and Frank left the hospital after vowing to return early the next morning. Fenton took the wheel and headed to the police station. He retrieved the brick and paper from the backseat and he and Frank went inside. Once there, they were admitted to Chief Collig's office.  
  
"Hello, Fenton, Frank," tall, graying Ezra Collig said to the Hardys as they entered his office. "I was just on my way out. What's wrong?" he demanded, his face turning serious as he noticed the concerned look on their faces.  
  
Fenton told Chief Collig about Joe's accident and the brick, laying the brick and paper on Collig's desk. Chief Collig got on the intercom and ordered a member of forensics to be sent to his office immediately to retrieve the evidence.  
  
"What did the thrower look like?" Chief Collig asked Frank.  
  
"I didn't get a good look," Frank replied, scowling. "He was about five foot eight and he was wearing a green parka. The car was a black Toyota Corolla but I never got the tag number," he ended.  
  
"Dobson owns a black Corolla," Fenton stated. "The tag number is XYM-4789."  
  
"We know all about Dobson," Chief Collig responded with a sigh. "There's a nation-wide APB out on him. I'm sorry about Joe," he continued. "Is he going to be okay?"  
  
"The doctor thinks so," Frank replied. "He..." Frank stopped talking when a knock sounded at the door.  
  
Officer Sutton from Forensics entered the office. He was a muscular man in uniform with black hair and gray around the temples. In his hand he held a pair of plastic gloves. Chief Collig pointed to the brick and paper on his table. Officer Sutton put the gloves on and gingerly picked up the items.  
  
"My prints are on them," Fenton informed the man, "but if you find a second set, check them against Kevin Dobson first."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Officer Sutton acknowledged then left the office.   
  
"I'll call you if anything new comes up," Chief Collig told the Hardys. "If Dobson's prints are found, I'll let you know in the morning."  
  
"Thanks, Ezra," Fenton said, shaking his hand before following Frank out of the office.  
  
When they arrived home, Frank checked the answering machine. There had been one message while they were gone. Frank rewound the tape, wondering if Joe had awakened. He hit play as his father came to stand next to him.  
  
Both Hardys became deathly pale as they heard the message begin. An eerie laugh followed by a baritone voice jovially stated, "Really, Fenton, young Joesph has made this far too easy." 


	3. Chapter Three

Fenton grabbed the receiver as the message ended and dialed the hospital. "Room 422," he requested. After the fifth ring he disconnected and redialed. "Send someone to room 422," he ordered and slammed the phone down.  
  
Frank ran from the room, snagging his jacket on his way out while his father made the call. By the time he had backed the car out of the drive, Fenton was running down the porch steps, pulling his coat on as he went. He jumped in the passenger side and Frank had his foot on the gas before his father had closed the door.  
  
Reaching the hospital, Frank took the nearest free space. Rushing inside, he and Fenton ignored the elevator and ran up the steps, not stopping until the hit the fourth floor's landing. They rused to room 422 and halted in the doorway. Fenton inhaled deeply when he saw not his son lying still beneath the hovering doctor, but his wife.  
  
"Mom," Frank whispered in fear from beside his father.  
  
Dr. Lymbock turned around at the softly spoken word. "She's all right," he quickly assured the two Hardys. "She has been drugged."  
  
"Where's Joe?" Frank demanded, his moth dry.  
  
"Two men took him," the brown-haired nurse replied shakily.  
  
"What two men?" Frank demanded, his voice coming out angry although it was worry and fear talking.  
  
"They were dressed as orderlies," she replied. "They said Dr. Lymbock wanted Joe taken back downstairs for another cat scan."  
  
"And you didn't question why he would need another?" Dr. Lymbock asked her.  
  
"The stocky one said you mentioned seeing something that required another test to be sure," she answered.  
  
"Dobson's men," Fenton stated, walking over to the phone by the bedside and picking up the receiver. He dialed a nine to get an outside line, then phoned the police.  
  
Frank looked at the nurse as his father asked for assistance. "What did the two men look like?" he asked her.  
  
"One was short and stocky with brown hair put back in a pony tail. The other was taller, maybe six foot tall, with dirty blond hair and a beard," she described them.  
  
"Thanks," Frank told her and left the room. He took the elevator to the bottom floor and asked everyone he saw about the two men. Finally, one nurse replied she had seen the two men in question.  
  
"Where?" Frank asked, his eyes brightening with the scent of a lead.  
  
"They were leaving out the exit by the C garage," she told him.  
  
"Was anyone with them?" he inquired urgently.  
  
"A blond kid," she informed him. "They were carrying him. I asked if they needed help but they said he had been given something to keep him from throwing up and it had made him fall asleep."  
  
"Did they say anything else?" Frank asked.  
  
"Just that they were taking him home," she said, curiosity in her eyes as she wondered why he was so interested.  
  
"Thanks," he told her, forcing a smile onto his face. "You've been a big help." He hurried to the C garage and came to a stop at the base of the stairs, looking around helplessly.  
  
"Can't find your car?" asked an elderly gentleman leaning on a cane by the wall.  
  
Frank turned to look at the man. "You shouldn't be out here," he said. "It's too cold."  
  
"Nonsense," the man argued. "The wind doesn't reach this far back and a little cool air is good for you."  
  
Frank smiled at the man. "How long have you been out here?" he asked.  
  
"About fifteen or twenty minutes," the man replied. "Been visiting a friend. My daughter is supposed to pick me up up here in a few more minutes."  
  
"Have yous seen two guys come out, carrying a third?" he asked the gentleman and gave a description.  
  
"I sure did," the man said. "The two older ones put the one in the back seat of their car and they got in front."  
  
"What kind of car?" Frank asked, his eyes glowing with delight.  
  
"A beige and brown Cadillac," was the response.  
  
"I don't suppose you got their license number?" Frank asked.  
  
"Can't say as I did," the man admitted. "Why are you so interested in them anyway?" he demanded, looking at Frank suspiciously.  
  
"The blond boy they were carrying was my brother," Frank told him, his eyes once again filling with concern. "They kidnaped him out of his room a little bit ago."  
  
"Oh, my," the man said, his green eyes widening in surprise.  
  
"Did they say anything?" Frank asked.  
  
"They were talking about a boat," the man replied, concentrating. "The Gallena, I think they called it."  
  
"Anything else?" Frank asked, grateful for the lead but wanting more.  
  
"No," the old man replied, looking at a blue Nova that pulled to a stop in front of him and Frank. "That's all I heard," he replied.  
  
"Thank you so much for your help," Frank thanked the man, pulling out a little notebook from his back pocket and a pen from his shirt pocket. He wrote down his name and home phone number. "If you can think of anything else they might have said, will you please give me a call?" he asked, tearing off the sheet of paper and handing it to the man.  
  
"I'll do that," the man promised, going to the Nova and opening the door.  
  
"Thanks again," Frank said as the man climbed into the car. As the car took off, Frank turned and went back inside the building and up to the fourth floor where he saw that the police had arrived. Going into room 422, he saw his mother beginning to stir.  
  
"Joe," she whispered, turning her head to lok for him. "Joe," she said again, a bit louder this time. "Joe!" she shouted, coming fully conscious and sitting up with a start.  
  
"Easy," Fenton said tring to calm her down.  
  
"They're going to kill him!" she shouted, terrified. "He..he said they were going to take him away and kill him and we would never find the body!" she wailed, bursting into tears. 


	4. Chapter Four

Fenton pulled Laura into his arms and rocked her until she had calmed down a little. While she was composing herself, Frank told everyone what he had learned.  
  
"The Gallena?" Sergeant Con Riley repeated questioningly. Frank nodded. "I'll put out an alert with the Coast Guard," the young brown haired officer promised, his own face riddled with concern becasue Frank and Joe were close personal friends of his.  
  
"Honey," Fenton said gently to his wife. "Can you tell us what happened?" he asked.  
  
"I..I was sitting here holding Joe's hand and an orderly came in. He had a needle in his hand. I thought he was going to give Joe a shot and stood up to ask him what it was for when he rushed over and pushed me back into the chair. He..he," she broke off and started crying again, but more softly. "That's when he told me they were going to kill Joe. Then he put the needle in my arm and I blacked out."  
  
Frank, his face white as snow, looked at his father. "We've got to find the Gallena," he said. Fenton nodded. "I'm going to start looking," he said.  
  
"No!" Fenton shouted the order as Frank spun and headed for the door.  
  
"What?" Frank demanded in disbelief.  
  
"The wind's too strong," Fenton told Frank. "If you take the Sleuth out in this, you'll capsize," he said, mentioning Frank and Joe's sleek motorboat.  
  
"Then I'll hit every place in the area where it might be moored," Frank stated, at once realizing his father was right. "I'll keep in touch with my cell phone," he promised, leaving.  
  
As he reached the elevator, he realized not only didn't he have his cell phone but he didn't have a car either. If he took his mother's, then she and his father would be stranded at the hospital. The cab services had all shut down due to the weather.  
  
Making a decision, he walked over to the pay phone as soon as he exited the elevator. He dialed his best friend, Chet Morton. "Chet, can you borrow you dad's car?" he asked as soon as Chet answered. Chet's car was in the garage for repairs.  
  
"I'll check," Chet replied. "Why?"  
  
"Joe's been kidnaped," Frank informed him.  
  
"When? By who?" Chet sputtered.  
  
"There isn't time now for that now," Frank told him. "See about the car."  
  
Frank held the receiver, dropping more change into the phone to prevent being disconnected. "Frank," he heard Chet's voice as he returned to the phone. "Dad said it's okay. Where are you?"  
  
"At Bayport General," Frank told him. "Listen, stop by my house. You still have the key I lent you?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Chet answered, wondering why Frank was at the hospital but accepting that he would explain later.  
  
"Go in and get my cell phone," Frank instructed him. "It's on my desk. Then come to the hospital to pick me up there. You can take the van and leave your dad's car. The keys are with the cell phone."  
  
"Okay," Chet agreed before hanging up.  
  
After he hung up, Frank called another friend of his and Joe's, Biff Hooper. Frank explained about Joe's accident and abduction from the hospital. Then he told Biff about the Gallena. "We've got to find where she's moored before they leave with Joe," he said urgently.  
  
"You want to go out in this?" Biff demanded in disbelief. "It started raining an hour ago and the wind is up to almost forty five miles an hour with gusts almost twice that."  
  
"Not exactly," Frank hurriedly assured him. "With the weather this bad, I don't think they'll take Joe out. They might end up in the drink. But if we can find where the ship is moored, we can keep watch for when they do show up."  
  
"Okay," Biff agreed. "Count me in. Where do you want me to start?"  
  
"Con's alerted the coast guard and he will make sure all the berths at the piers are checked," Frank said. "How about cruising out around the Shore Road area and seeing if you can spot anything?" he suggested. "Be sure and take some binoculars," he added. "Chet and I will head north along Seaside Drive. If you find anything, call me on the cell."  
  
"Will do," Biff agreed. "I'll call Tony and see if he can go with me."  
  
"Great idea," Frank promised. "My time's up," he added. "Thanks," he said right before the phone went dead.  
  
Blond headed, brown-eyed, Chet Morton arrived a few minutes later and Frank hurried out to the van. Frank told Chet to head toward Seaside as he buckled in and opened the glove compartment. Frank pulled out a pair of binoculars and adjusted them to his eyes. Then he brought Chet up to date on the case.  
  
Chet gave a low whistle. "You guys have had a busy eveining," he said. He drove in silence for a bit as Frank kept a look-out the windows for either of the two cars driven by Dobson or his men. "Frank," Chet said softly a few minutes later. "Do you think Joe's came out of his coma yet?"  
  
"I don't know," Frank replied. "To be honest, I don't know if I want him to until we find him."  
  
"Why?" Chet demanded, glancing briefly at Frank with wide eyes.  
  
"He's hurt," Frank explained. "If he comes around, he'll try to escape and they'll hurt him worse than he already is."  
  
"Slow down," Frank ordered a few minutes later as they neared the shore. Frank rolled down his window, letting the rain inside as he held the binoculars up to his eyes. Chet inched the van slowly up the road turning the heater on high to help keep the cold from consuming them. Almost an hour later, Frank told Chet to stop the van.  
  
"I see it!" Frank shouted excitedly. He picked up the cell phone and called Biff on his cell and told Biff that he and Tony could go home. Then he called home. His father answered on the second ring.  
  
"Frank, are you okay?" Fenton demanded.  
  
"I'm fine," he quickly assured his father. "And I've found the Gallena," he added, then gave the exact location.  
  
"Good," Fenton said. "Now find somewhere and take cover," he ordered urgently.  
  
"Why?" Frank asked, expecting his dad to be more excited.  
  
"A funnel was spotted near the Trondheim county line, and you're almost there!" 


	5. Chapter Five

"Pull over near that house," Frank ordered Chet after he disconnected with his father. Frank pointed to a two-story house just ahead on the left.  
  
"What's up?" Chet demanded, noting the urgency in his voice.  
  
"Twister," Frank answered.  
  
"This place is no good," Chet argued even as he pulled the van to a stop. "No one's lived here for years."  
  
"I know," Franks aid. "But maybe we can get into the cellar or break inside and get into the basement."  
  
Frank and Chet got out of the van and ran toward the house. "Over there!" Frank shouted at Chet above the wind.  
  
They ran toward the cellar. When they reached it, they discovered it had been nailed shut. "We'll have to get inside," Frank said.  
  
"We can break the window," Chet suggested, grabbing Frank's shoulder and turning him around so he could see the basement window. "We can come back and fix it tomorrow."  
  
Chet bent down and tried to open the window. Having no luck, he stood up and kicked. The window smashed. A couple of more kicks and the boys were able to scramble through into the basement.  
  
"Now, who is this guy who kidnaped Joe?" Chet asked after they had settled themselves in a corner.  
  
"His name is Kevin Dobson," Frank told him, then repeated what his father had told him.   
  
"Oh boy," Chet sighed heavily. "No wonder we had to find this boat tonight."  
  
"Get some sleep," Frank ordered, seeing Chet subcumb to his second yawn since they had entered the basement. "Dad will call when the danger is over and we can get busy then."  
  
"What about you?" Chet asled, looking at Frank with concern as he tried to fight off another yawn. "You're washed out."  
  
"I'm too worried about Joe," Frank responded. "Go to sleep," he told Chet again. "I'll wake you up," he promised.  
  
Chet nodded and, with another yawn, lay down on the basement's concrete floor and cradled his head on his arm. Soon, his breathing evened out and he slept.  
  
Frank sat on the floor, his arms circling his knees which held his chin. He sat quietly, staring into space, wondering if Joe had woken up and scared he never would.  
  
  
  
Not far away, Joe also lay on hard cement. His abductors had heard the tornado warning and had taken refuge in the house they had been occupying at zero rent, the owners being in Australia for vacation.  
  
"We could have just left him outside," said the stocky man with a ponytail.  
  
"No, Billy, we couldn't," Dobson disagreed sharply. "He has to be conscious when we kill him. He has to know he's dying because of his father."  
  
"The kid's been out for hours," Darryl, the dirty blond complained. "What if he never wakes up?"  
  
"Then Hardy will still never see his son alive again," Dobson asserted.  
  
"Turn on the radio," Darryl ordered Billy. "I want out of here as soon as possible."  
  
"Don't like dark, damp places?" Billy snorted.  
  
"I don't like twisters," Darryl stated with a disparing look in Billy's direction.  
  
"Anyone up for some cards?" Dobson asked, pulling a deck from his shirt pocket.  
  
"Why not?" Billy replied, turning on the radio and going over to sit in front of Dobson, cross-legged, on the floor.  
  
"I'm in," Darryl answered, also moving closer to Dobson.  
  
They had been playing for a short time when they heard a moan. Dobson froze, his hand holding two cards he had been about to discard, and looked over at Joe.  
  
Joe moaned again and moved his head slightly. Dobson dropped his cards and stood up. Going over to where Joe lay, he knelt by the youth and pushed his hair away from his eyes.  
  
Joe's eyes flickered once, then opened. 'Too much effort,' he thought, closing them again. He drifted back into the void.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
  
  
Frank awoke with a start. His cell phone sounded again. He reached over and picked it up. "Are you boys all right?" he heard his father's anxious voice.  
  
"We're fine," Frank replied a little more sharply than he had intended. He was annoyed with himself for having fallen asleep. "We're fine," Frank said again, a bit softer. "Is it over?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Fenton said. "No major damage has been reported," he added.  
  
"That's good," Frank said. "About the Gallena..." he began, but his father cut him off.   
  
"Chief Collig is sending Officer Kurtz and Officer Feldman to watch the boat," Fenton told Frank. "When they arrive, come home."  
  
"But..." Frank started to argue only to be interuppted again.  
  
"Chet's family is worried," Fenton cut him off. "Besides, there's nothing more you can do there," he added softly. "If they bring Joe aboard the Gallena we'll be alerted. If not, we'll board it tomorrow evening and search for clues," he promised.  
  
"Okay," Frank replied, although he really didn't want to leave. He decided he would take Chet back to get Mr. Morton's car, get some rest, then return first thing in the morning to repair the window. It would give him an excuse to watch the Gallena.  
  
He reached over and grabbed Chet's shoulder and shook. "Wha...whasit?" he mumbled sleepily.  
  
"It's over," Frank replied. "Let's go."  
  
"To the boat?" Chet asked, getting to his feet.  
  
"Home," Frank stated with a shake of his head. They left the same way they had entered. Once outside, Frank found a few loose boards and leaned the largest one against the window.  
  
Chet stood by, grinning at him. "With this wind, you actually think that will be there long?" he asked.  
  
Frank scowled at him and led the way back to the van. Getting in the driver's side, he started it up and turned on the heat as Chet got in on the passenger's side. Less than a minute later, they were back on the road and headed to town, Frank having seen a patrol car parked down the road a bit.  
  
**************************************************************************  
  
  
  
After the latest weather update, Billy turned off the radio. "To the boat now?" he asked, turning to look at Dobson who had stayed beside Joe since he had stirred almost half an hour ago.  
  
"Tomorrow," Darryl snapped. "It's still pouring the rain."  
  
"Let's move him upstairs," Dobson ordered. "I want him watched at all times."  
  
Darryl and Billy picked Joe up and carried him up the narrow basement stairs and through the kitchen into the living room. "On the couch?" Darryl asked, panting from the effort.  
  
"In the bedroom," Dobson replied. Joe was carried up another flight of steps and dumped unceremoniously onto the bed of the first bedroom they came to.  
  
"I'll take first watch," Dobson told the two men. "Bring me a beer and something to eat, would you?"  
  
A few minutes later, Darryl came back into the bedroom with a beer and a plate of sandwiches. As he was leaving, Joe stirred again. He moaned, moving his head, as his eyes flickered open for the second time tonight.  
  
"Are you awake this time?" Dobson inquired in a falsely concerned voice.  
  
"I...I..," Joe said softly, swallowing from the effort.  
  
"Welcome back," Darryl said, coming over to stand by Joe's bed. "We've been anxious for your return," he told Joe, smiling thinly, his eyes glinting. 


	6. Chapter Six

''Sorry,'' Joe said softly. ''I didn't mean to worry you.'' He closed his eyes again, his head filled with the constant pounding of a beginning drummer.  
  
''Open your eyes boy,'' Dobson ordered.  
  
''But Dad, it hurts,'' Joe whined softly.  
  
Dobson's eyes widened in surprise and he looked over at Darryl with a malicious smile. When he looked back at Joe, his face was filled with feigned concern ''You have to Son,'' he said. ''I need to make sure.''  
  
''Sure of what?'' Joe asked, forcing his eyes to open and staring at Dobson innocently.  
  
''Sure that you're all right,'' Dobson answered. ''You got hit pretty hard.''  
  
''I did?'' Joe asked. ''When?''  
  
''Just a little bit ago,'' was Dobson's reply. ''You and your uncle Darryl here were putting up the lawn furniture but something flew and got you in the head,'' he explained.  
  
Joe looked over at Darryl. ''Thanks for getting me inside Uncle Darryl,'' Joe said gratefully, closing his eyes again. Soon, he was asleep.  
  
Dobson took Darryl's arm and led him out of the room. Closing the door, he preceded Darryl downstairs. "Why did you leave the kid alone?" Billy asked the two as they entered the living room.  
  
''He's awake,'' Darryl told Billy.  
  
''So you killed him already?'' Billy demanded, his face breaking out in disappointment. ''I wanted to watch.''  
  
''Change of plans,'' Dobson told him. ''Sit down,'' he told Darryl who was still standing. Darryl sat on the sofa, three feet from Billy. ''The kid's obviously got amnesia,'' Dobson continued.  
  
''So we gotta wait until he gets his memory back to kill him?'' Billy asked.  
  
''You lame-brain,'' Darryl snorted.  
  
''No, we're not going to kill him,'' Dobson said. Billy's eyes widened in surprise. ''At least, not yet. We've already got Joe believeing I'm his father and you're his uncle,'' he added, looking at Darryl. ''Billy, you can be his uncle on his mom's side.''  
  
''Huh?'' Billy asked, confused. ''Why?''  
  
''Simple. What would hurt Fenton Hardy more then killing his son?'' Dodson asked.  
  
''Having him hate him,'' Darryl guessed.  
  
''Exactly!'' Dobson agreed, smiling.  
  
''Starting in the morning, young Joseph will discover how much he hates the Hardys.'' He looked Darryl in the eyes. ''Can you break into the Hardy's and get some of Joe's things?'' Darryl nodded his consent. ''And be sure to get some pictures of all the Hardy's except for Joe. Some individuals of Joe would be okay,'' he added.  
  
''I'm on my way,'' Darryl said, standing up. ''Come on Billy,'' he said.  
  
''What do you need me for?'' Billy whined, not wanting to go out in the rain.  
  
''A diversion,'' Darryl ansered.  
  
As the two left, Dobson shook his head. It was hard to believe those two were cousins. He sat down on the sofa and started eating his sandwiches which he had brought back from Joe's room.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
All was quiet at the Hardy house. Frank and Chet had returned with Chet heading to his own home immediately. Frank had gone inside and drank a cup of cocoa with his parents before going to bed. Frank lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking of Joe. He wasn't tense but his body was ready for action. Sleep wasn't soemthing he would meet up with again tonight. He heard a noise outside. Jumping from his bed, he looked out the window but saw no movement. A moment later, his father's car sprang into life. The headlights clicked on and it began backing out of the garage.  
  
Frank ran to his door and opened it. Shouting to his parents that someone was stealing the car, he raced downstairs, forgetting to put on his shoes. He hurriedly opened the front door, snagging the car keys from beside the phone where he had left them when he returned earlier, and raced to the van in his pajamas.  
  
Billy drove the car just slow enough to allow Frank to keep him in sight. He hit the interstate and headed for Southport.  
  
Frank had been gone for a good thirty minutes when the phone at the Hardy household rang. Fenton picked up the receiver on the second ring. ''Hello,'' he said, expecting to hear Frank's voice.   
  
''Fenton Hardy, this is Officer Mike Perkinson with the Southport Police Department,'' the voice came through. ''I'm afraid there has been an accident.''  
  
Fenton's face drained of the little color he had left, his hand gripped the receiver, turning his knuckles white. ''Frank?'' he whispered. He couldn't bare to lose both his sons.  
  
''He's been taken to the McCullen Memorial Hospital,'' Officer Perkinson told Fenton. ''You should probably hurry.''  
  
''Yes, of course,'' Fenton replied. ''Thank you,'' he added, hanging up.  
  
''What's wrong?'' Laura demanded, fear in her voice and eyes.  
  
''Frank's been hurt,'' Fenton croaked. ''We've got to go to Southport,'' he said, taking her arm and pulling her to the door. They had dressed earlier when Frank's shout had awoken them. Fenton closed and locked the door, and they climed into Laura's car and headed for Southport.  
  
As soon as they drove away, a figure dressed in black from head to shoe, stepped from behind a tree and made it's way to the back of the Hardy house. A scant minute later, the door to the kitchen opened and the intruder entered the house.  
  
The intruder walked into the living room and quickly found what he was after. He pulled a photograph album from the bottom of an end table and opened it. He flipped through the pages, removing a photo every now and then.  
  
Finishing, he shut the album and put it back where he had gotten it. Then he went upstairs. He located two bedrooms which obviously belonged to two teen-aged boys. Choosing the messiest one, he entered in and took a few items which wouldn't be missed by anyone but their owner.  
  
Mission accomplished, the intruder took the photos and items and retreated out the kitchen door, making sure to lock it behind him. 


	7. Chapter Seven

"Get it?" Dobson asked Darryl when he had returned.  
  
Darryl grinned and slipped tha backpack from his shoulder. He handed the photos to Dobson. ''I'll take care of these,'' Dobson told Darryl. ''You go and organize Joe's room before he wakes up.''  
  
Darryl took the backpack upstairs and tossed the items about the place. Lastly, he laid a comic book and a car magazine on the nightstand by the bed.  
  
Joe opened his eyes and saw Darryl stading there. ''Hi Kid,'' Darryl said, smiling down at Joe. ''Feeling any better?''  
  
''I feel fine,'' Joe replied, sitting up slowly and putting the weight on his arms from the elbow down. ''Except for the construction in my head.''  
  
''Just lay back and relax Joe,'' Darryl told him, gently pushing Joe back until his head was once again resting on the pillow.  
  
''Joe?'' Joe asked with a puzzeled expression.  
  
''Yeah,'' Darryl said, trying to contain the smile that was aching to burst forth.   
  
Joe's eyes started darting around the room as he sat up again, his heartbeat erratic. ''Why can't I remember who I am?'' he asked, looking up at Darryl with anxious blue eyes. ''I don't even remember you.''  
  
''Take it easy,'' Darryl said with a bit of a force. ''It will come back to you,'' he promised. ''I'm your father's brother, Darryl,'' he continued in a soothing voice. ''I and your mother's brother, Billy, moved in with you and your father when your mom died.''  
  
''How did she die?'' Joe asked, his eyes saddening suddenly.  
  
''She was killed by Fenton Hardy,'' came Dobson's voice from the doorway.  
  
''How?'' Joe asked quietly.  
  
Dobson came into the room and sat down on the bed beside Joe. He took Joe's left hand in his and pushed Joe's hair from his eyes with his free hand. ''Your mother and I were out celebrating our anniversary a little over a year ago,'' he began.  
  
''Mom?'' Joe asked.  
  
''Stacey,'' Dobson informed Joe. ''She had gone to the ladies' room. While she was gone, two men tried to rob the restaurant. Fenton Hardy was there with his wife and son, Frank. He didn't care who got hurt as long as he stopped the robbers.  
  
''As the robbers were leaving, Hardy pulled out his gun and told them to freeze. They got off a round a piece. But when Fenton fired, your mother came out of the bathroom and right into the line of fire. He opened up and she took the bullet.''  
  
Dobson broke off, seemingly unable to continue.  
  
Joe squeezed Dobson's hand. ''Dad, don't....''  
  
Dobson gave Joe a strained look. ''You need to know,'' he said a bit harshly. ''She died a little later that night at the hospital. Hardy didn't even have the decency to come around. All he cared about were those two robbers. He got them, but it cost your mother her life.''   
  
''Maybe he didn't mean....'' Joe started, but was interrupted again.  
  
"They had what they wanted and they were leaving. If Hardy hadn't wanted the glory for capturing them, your mother would be with us today.''  
  
Tears rolled down Joe's cheeks as he thought about his mother dying. Joe sat up and wrapped his arms around Dobson's neck.  
  
Dobson hugged Joe. ''It's okay, Son,'' Dobson said softly, comforting Joe. ''Let it out, it's okay.''  
  
Joe's body began to shake. He grieved for the mother he knew he must have loved even though he couldn't remember her. When his sobs subsided, Dobson laid Joe back onto the bed. He cried himself to sleep.  
  
''Phase two,'' Dobson whispered as he and Darryl left the room and closed the door behind them.  
  
''It's lucky the owners of this place have a teenage son his size,'' Darryl said, going down the stairs. ''Otherwise we would have to get him clothes too.''  
  
''When is Billy coming back?'' Dobson asked as they reached the living room.  
  
''As soon as I pick him up,'' Darryl replied. ''He's going to ditch the car in Southport.''  
  
''So go and get him,'' Dobson ordered. ''Everyone's got to be here for a family breakfast.''  
  
****************************************************************  
  
Frank followed his dad's car, taking the exit to Southport. He followed, trying to get close enough to see the driver, but just as he got close enough, the car would round a corner and the opportunity would be gone.  
  
Frank rounded the corner expecting to see his father's car but saw nothing. He stepped on the gas, speeding up a little, his eyes searching. Nothing. Frank stopped the van and slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration. He took a deep, calming breath and started to circle the area. A couple of turns later and he couldn't believe his luck. There, parked between two buildings in an alley, was his father's car.  
  
Frank pulled to a stop in front of the alley. The car, though still running, looked empty. Frank opened the van's door and got out. Before he could do react, his father's car came smashing into the passenger side of the van, pushing Frank as it went.  
  
The thief jumped out of the car and ran away under cover of the night. Frank lay on the cold pavement, unmoving. 


	8. Chapter Eight

"We're here to see Frank Hardy," Fenton told the nurse in the emergency room as he and Laura rushed inside.  
  
"Who?" the nurse asked, not recognizing the name.  
  
"Frank Hardy," Fenton repeated more slowly.  
  
"And you are?" asked a voice coming from behind Fenton.  
  
Fenton spun around and saw a police officer looking at him suspiciously. "I'm his father, Fenton Hardy," he replied. "How bad was he hurt?" he fired the question at the officer.  
  
"Slow down," the officer said. "First of all, he'll be okay. Just a few bruises and a slight concussion."  
  
"Thank God," Laura breathed in relief.  
  
"How did you know he was here?" the officer inquired.  
  
"We got a call from an Officer Perkinson about forty-five minutes ago telling us he had been in an accident," Fenton answered, a gnawing suspicion growing inside of him. "Let me guess," he continued, "there isn't an Officer Perkinson on your force?"  
  
"No Sir," Officer Cooper replied. He had recognized Fenton Hardy almost at once, but was curious about the situation. "As a matter of fact," he continued, "Frank was only just brought in. Someone saw him go down and called it in not more than fifteen minutes ago."  
  
"Can we see him?" Laura asked anxiously, interrupting the officer and her husband.  
  
"It will be a few minutes," the nurse replied. She held out a clipboard. "If you would fill this out while you wait?" she asked. "It shouldn't be much longer."  
  
Laura took the clipboard and a pen from the nurse and left the two men standing as she walked over and took a chair by the window.  
  
"What happened?" Fenton asked Officer Cooper after Laura had moved away.  
  
"I haven't spoken with your son yet, except to get his name and your phone number. I was just going to call you," he added. "But apparently, Frank blocked the path of the stolen car, yours, and the thief tried to move the van with it."  
  
"Where's the car thief?" Fenton asked.  
  
"He got away."  
  
"Get in touch woith Chief Collig at the Bayport PD and see if they have seen any movement aboard the Gallena," Fenton instructed the man. "Also, have him send a patrol car by my house and check for intruders."  
  
"The Gallena?" Officer Cooper inquired with the lift of an eyebrow.  
  
"My youngest son was kidnapped earlier this evening," Fenton explained. Officer Cooper nodded his acknowledgement, then pulled his CB from the loop on his belt and contacted his headquarters.  
  
Laura looked up as Fenton came and sat down beside her. She handed him the clipboard. He took it and squeezed her hand reassuringly before rising and taking the clipboard back to the nurse.  
  
"Hey!" a familiar voice rang out from behind Fenton. He turned around to see his wife rushing toward his son who was being brought into the emergency room's waiting area in a wheelchair.  
  
"Are you okay?" Laura asked, bending down and kissing Frank's cheek affectionately.  
  
"I'm fine," Frank assured her, a questioning expression on his face. "How did you get here so fast?" he asked.  
  
Fenton explained about the phone call.  
  
"It figures," Frank said with a grimace. "My getting hurt was just a coincidence. I bet having the car stolen was a ploy to get us out of the house and when only I left, they called with the fake accident report to get you out," Frank surmised. "But why?"  
  
"Sir," Officer Cooper returned. "No one has shown up at the Gallena and a patrol car has been sent to your house to check for intruders," he added. "How are you feeling?" he asked, looking down at Frank.  
  
"I'm okay," Frank replied with a smile. "What about the van and the car?" he asked.  
  
"They are both drivable, but they'll need some body work done," Officer Cooper answered. "They were taken to Hampton's Garage at 817 Stewart Drive."  
  
"Great!" Frank said. "Mom can drop us off and we can drive them home."  
  
"Sorry," Fenton said, shaking his head in disagreement. "You're not driving anywhere tonight. Laura can drop me off and I'll drive the van home. Hampton's can begin the work on my car. You," he added, giving his eldest son a stern look to prevent him arguing, "will ride home with your mother."  
  
"Yes Sir," Frank agreed, knowing further debate would prove fruitless.  
  
When the Hardys arrived home they found Chief Collig there along with Officer's Delvin and Fairway. Recognizing the officers at once as members of the Bayport Police Department's Bomb Squad, Frank jumped out of the car and ran over to Chief Collig before his mother had time to put the car into park. "What are they doing here?" he asked, his brown eyes wary.  
  
"There were entry signs around the kitchen door," Chief Collig replied. "With everything that has been going on with your family tonight, I thought it best to check the place out completely."  
  
The living room door opened and two more officers emerged, these with trained German Shepherds. "Nothing Sir," Officer Abrams said, coming over to where Chief Collig and Frank stood.  
  
"Thanks Abrams," Chief Collig acknowledged. "Now we dust for prints and you and your parents can see what's missing," he said, seeing Fenton pull into the driveway beside Laura.  
  
Frank went inside behind Sergeant Tim Rhyman, one of the BPD's fingerprint experts. Frank thought nothing of the police searching their place for bombs while they had been gone. His father had a written agreement with the BPD to allow for searches of this kind should an intruder ever be suspected of entering the premises.  
  
Inside, Frank stood looking around and frowning. Nothing looked out of place. He proceeded to his bedroom, as Hardy protocol dictates, to check for missing items. His father would go to his office, his mother to their bedroom, then they would all go to other areas in the house to look. Fenton had planned the search procedure years before when Frank and Joe had become old enough to help look.  
  
Finishing his room, he entered Joe's room. Since his brother wasn't there, it was up to Frank to check it out. He made a grimace as he gazed at the familiar mess, but he looked around anyway.  
  
Nothing of value had been taken, but Frank had the distinct impression something was missing. He concentrated on looking for items which might hold some sentimental value to Joe. That's when he discovered several things were missing.  
  
He rushed to his father's office where he was still checking his files while Chief Collig stood waiting patiently. "Dad," Frank said on entering the room.  
  
  
  
"Something missing?" Chief Collig asked, alert.  
  
"Yeah," Frank admitted. "But nothing of value," he added. "And only Joe's things."  
  
"Dobson?" the chief asked Fenton.  
  
"Has to be," Fenton agreed, closing the drawer of the file cabinet he had been looking through. "But why would he take Joe's things?" he asked, mystified.  
  
"What's missing?" Chief Collig asked Frank.  
  
"His backpack, an autographed picture of the Bayport Raiders, a black leather cord necklace with a silver lightening bolt pendant. And a few other items which are totally worthless except to Joe," he concluded. "Do you think they've decided to keep him alive?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"If they have, it sounds like they may be playing some kind of mind game with him," Chief Collig stated grimly 


	9. Chapter Nine

Joe woke up to the sound of birds chirrping out the bedroom window. He sat up slowly and shoved aside the sheet with which he had been covered. He swung his legs off the side of the bed, his hands grasping the mattress on each side.  
  
The pounding in his head had subsided to a dull ache but he felt queasy and really didn't want to get up. 'No pain, no gain,' he thought silently, so he used his hands to help propel him to his feet. He stood motionless for a moment, then slowly made his way across the room to where the dresser stood, it's mirror arched near the ceiling.  
  
He placed both hands on the dresser's edge and stared at the stranger in the mirror. He saw at once he wasn't bad looking. But he didn't look at all like his father with his black hair and green eyes. He did favor his Uncle Darryl though.  
  
He moved away from the mirror and walked to a door on his left. Opening it, he saw a closet filled with jeans, shirts, and even two dress suits. He reached in and removed a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt advertising a heavy-metal band.  
  
Going back to the dresser, he opened each drawer until he came to one containing underwear. He removed a pair of socks and a pair of briefs, closed the drawer and headed toward the bathroom where the door stood open revealing a large sunken-in bathtub in the center of the room.  
  
He closed the door, walked over to the shower stall in the corner and turned on the water. Half an hour later, Joe walked out of the bathroom, his wet hair dampening the neck of his tee shirt.  
  
He headed toward the bedroom door, pausing when he saw a framed picture setting on the desk. He picked it up and looked at it. "The Bayport Raiders," Joe read out loud. "To Joe, one of our biggest fans." He smiled as he set it back down, not bothering to read the individual signatures.  
  
He left his room and went downstairs, following his nose as his stomach roared. The smell of bacon wafted into his nostrils as he strode through the living room and into the kitchen.  
  
"What are you doing out of bed?" Dobson demanded gruffly as Joe came into the kitchen.  
  
"I'm okay, Dad," Joe told him with a grin. "My head hardly hurts at all. But I am starving," he added, staring hungrily at the plate of biscuits Darryl held.  
  
"Well, sit down boy," Billy told him, coming up beside Joe and taking his arm and leading him to a chair.  
  
"Uncle Billy?" Joe asked, remembering his dad mentioning his mother's brother.  
  
"See," Billy told him jovially. "Your memory's coming back already."  
  
"Not really," Joe apologized. "I just remember Dad mentioning you last night."  
  
"It doesn't make no never mind," Billy told him, sitting down beside Joe as Dobson and Darryl put plates of food on the table. "You'll be right as rain in no time," he promised. "And I'll help you remember."  
  
"How?" Joe asked, grinning as Billy picked up the plate of scrambled eggs and scooped some onto Joe's plate.  
  
"I'll show you pictures," he said and pulled out his wallet. "You see this kid with the curly blond hair?" he asked Joe.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied, taking a couple of biscuits and putting them on his plate as his dad laid some bacon and sausage beside the eggs.  
  
"That's your mom when she was eight. And that's me standing beside her," Billy added. "I was six."  
  
"So mom was your big sister," Joe observed, opening a biscuit and putting a piece of sausage on it.  
  
"Yep," Billy admitted, smiling brightly. "And that's why when your mom was killed, I moved in with your dad to help raise you. She took care of me after our mom died. It's what she would have wanted."  
  
"Tell me about her," Joe begged.  
  
"A better sister a boy could never have," Billy told Joe. "She always chased away the guys at school who picked on me," he said, his eyes taking on a kind of dazed look as he remembered his childhood. "You know, she even taught me to ride a bike and skate."  
  
"Your mother was a wonderful woman," Dobson broke in. Joe looked over at his dad. "She was a voulunteer with the Red Cross for ten years before she died. He gave a sad smile. "I remember when we met," he said. "We were in the Peace Corps in Honduras," Dobson told Joe. "We got married two weeks later. After our time was up, we came back to the states, bought this house and settled down."  
  
"Was she happy?" Joe asked.  
  
"Very," Dobson assured him. "Especially when she found out she was pregnant. A prouder mother could never exist."  
  
Joe's eyes started to water and he rapidly blinked them away, concentrating on his breakfast. Not another word was said until breakfast was over.  
  
"You sure you're feeling better?" Darryl asked Joe when he had finished his orange juice. Joe nodded. "Good," Darryl said with a sly grin. "Cause it's your turn to do the dishes."  
  
Joe groaned but stood up and began removing the dishes from the table. "I'll help," Dobson offered, standing up.  
  
"That's okay Dad," Joe said, smiling over at his father. "I can do them."  
  
The three men left the room and Joe finished clearing the table. He started the water in the sink, adding a squirt of dish detergent. As he submerged his hands into the soapy mix, an image of a tall, thin woman with dark brown hair with a few strands of gray flashed through his mind.  
  
Joe closed his eyes, trying to bring back the image, but it was gone. He wondered who the stern faced woman could be as he turned off the water and began washing the dishes.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
"Breakfast is ready," Fenton said, tapping on Frank's bedroom door and pushing it open. "You look terrible," he added, seeing the dark circles beneath Frank's eyes.  
  
"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Frank retorted with a wan smile.  
  
"The wind has died down and the sun is shining," Fenton told Frank. "If they're going to take Joe aboard the Gallena, it's the perfect day for it."  
  
"Chief Collig still has someone watching the boat then?" Frank asked.  
  
"Of course," Fenton replied. "I'm going over to Dobson's house after breakfast. He may have left a clue to his whereabouts. What are you planning?"  
  
"Chet and I had to break a window last night so I'm going to hit the hardware store and replace it," he told his dad. "Then, I'm going to swing by the police station and see if Forensics came up with anything on the paper or brick." He paused, thinking. "I'm also going to get the gang together and have them on the lookout for the Corolla and the Cadillac."  
  
"Sounds like you'll keep busy," Fenton said approvingly. "Keep in touch. Your mom's going to be waiting by the phone until we find Joe," he added worriedly.  
  
"I know," Franks said softly. "It must be worse for her. At least we get to do something," he added, following his father down the stairs.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
"Here you go," Dobson said, handing Joe some nails and a hammer. They were outside, boarding up a bedroom window. A tree had blown down during the night and some of the branches had knocked out the window. Darryl and Billy were chopping the tree to use for firewood.  
  
"Listen Son," Dobson said to Joe after a few minutes. "I want you to stay around the house until your memory returns."  
  
"What if it doesn't?" Joe asked, a little fearfully.  
  
"It will, it will," Dobson said soothingly. "But it may take some time. So, until it does, I don't want you wandering off by yourself. You stay here unless I or one of your uncles takes you somewhere. Okay?"  
  
"All right, Dad," Joe promised. "There's more to it than my memory though," he guessed shrewdly. "What is it?"  
  
"It's Hardy," Dobson admitted. "You, well, you kind of dogged him and his son after Hardy got away with killing your mom. I'm afraid if they get near you, in your present state, they may try and get back at you."  
  
"How?" Joe demanded.  
  
"They could try and brainwash you or maybe trump up some charge to have you arrested on," Dobson said, his voice breaking. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."  
  
"Don't worry Dad," Joe said, puting an arm around his dad's shoulders. "Tell me what they look like and I swear I'll run the other way if I see them."  
  
"And you won't listen to their lies?" Dobson demanded.  
  
"I won't even give them a chance to speak it they get that close," Joe promised. "If they get close enough to speak, I'll break their jaws so they can't," he vowed heatedly. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Frank got out of the van and opened the back. He pulled out the new window and carried it over to the basement and set it by the broken one. The boards he had lain against the broken one were no where to be seen.  
  
He returned to the van and pulled out a tool chest and carried it over to the house. Then he returned to the van once more to retrieve the binoculars from the glove compartment. He put them to his eyes and gazed over to where he had seen the police cruiser last night. One was still present although he was sure it was a different officer on duty. Next he turned his gaze toward the bay where the Gallena was moored. He saw no movement save for the gentle lapping of the waves against the bow.  
  
He lowered the binoculars and carried them with him to the house. He set them down and set about replacing the basement window. When he had finished, he carried the broken window and tool chest to the van and locked them in the back. He started to climb in the van when he remembered the binoculars.  
  
He went back to retrieve them and held them up, once again, to his eyes. From this vantage point he couldn't make out the Gallena, but he did see something to make him inhale sharply. At a house, not too far away, was his brother, looking none the worse, laughing at something someone was telling him. Frank looked at the three men with Joe. He recognized Dobson from the file his father had shown him last night after the police had left. The other two men matched the description of the men who had kidnapped Joe.  
  
Frank lowered the binoculars and raced to the van. He grabbed his cell phone from the seat and called police headquarters where he was put through to Chief Collig. Frank told him about seeing Joe.  
  
"I'll have Officer Sorrenson go with you," the Chief told Frank. "He's watching the Gallena."  
  
"No!" Frank disagreed. "They might get away and head toward the boat. Joe was acting friendly with them," he continued. "I'm going to see what's going on. You can send some men out, but no sirens and keep the Gallena under surveillance."  
  
Frank hung up and drove the van closer to where Joe was being held captive, either willingly or not. He got out of the van and made his way closer to the group, being careful not to be seen or heard.  
  
"This has been fun," Billy said, smiling as he leaned back in the lawn chair.  
  
"Any excuse not to work," Darryl teased him. "But we did deserve it after taking care of that tree."  
  
"Well, I enjoyed it," Joe said, grinning. "That was too cool the way you two carried on," he continued. "You guys are regular Stooges. The only problem is, your both like Curly. Except for the hair thing," he ended.  
  
"Joe," Dobson said, getting his attention. "I'm going into Fairfield. Want to come?"  
  
"Sure," Joe agreed, standing up.  
  
Dobson looked over at Darryl and Billy. "You two better finish that job you started," he told them.  
  
"What job?" Joe asked.  
  
"They have a delivery to complete," Dobson replied, going over and putting an arm around Joe's shoulders and leading him inside.  
  
"And, oh boy, will the Hardy's be surprised when they get it," Billy said, grinning in delight as he and Darryl headed toward the garage. A few minutes later, a brown and beige Cadillac pulled out of the garage headed toward Bayport.  
  
*************************************************************************  
  
Frank crept up to the house and peered inside the kitchen window. Seeing no one, he went inside and cautiously made his way toward the living room.  
  
"Ready?" Dobson yelled up the stairs.  
  
"Yeah," Joe replied as he came running down the stairs. "Let's go."  
  
"I'll grab the keys and meet you in the car," Dobson told Joe.  
  
Joe went outside and headed for the car as Dobson came into the living room to find his keys. Frank quietly backed out into the kitchen. Seeing the keys on the table, he laid a dish towel on top of them, then ran to the garage where Joe was waiting.  
  
"Joe," Frank hissed as he neared his younger brother. "What's going on?" he demanded. "We've been..."  
  
His words were cut off as Joe swung around to face him. Instead of the friendly smile of recognition Frank had expected, Joe was glaring at him. His blue eyes were filled with intense hatred.  
  
"You stinking, low-down, dirty..." Joe said, getting closer to Frank with every word, his hand balling into a fist. He broke off and swung his fist upward, connecting with Frank's jaw and sending him reeling backwards into the garage wall.  
  
"Get out of here!" Joe snarled at him. "If you're here when we get back, I'll kill you," he added menacingly.  
  
Frank looked up at his brother. He felt the blood poring from his lips and knew Joe meant every word he said. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Joe stood glaring down at Frank, fuming, then, unbidden, an image flitted across his mind. He saw this same person but younger, lying on a hospital bed, unmoving. For some reason, the thought hurt.  
  
"Joe?" came Dobson's voice from behind him. Joe turned around and saw his dad coming toward him. For some unknown reason, he didn't want his dad to see Frank. He pulled open the car door and climbed in, hoping his dad would get in without coming around. He did. Dobson started the motor and the two took off leaving Frank sitting on the ground staring after them, an extremely worried look on his face.  
  
The police arrived a few minutes later and Frank explained about seeing Joe and his reaction. "They've brainwashed him," Frank concluded.  
  
"In one night?" Officer Dennison asked in disbelief. "More likely, he's found out something on them and is playing along to get evidence."  
  
Frank just shook his head. No way Dobson would be so friendly and trusting with Joe unless they had done something to him. He was frowning thoughtfully as he followed the police inside the house.  
  
Inside, Frank found the bedroom Joe had been given. The items he had discovered missing were setting around along with a few more things he recognized as Joe's but hadn't realized had been stolen.  
  
"We're going to wait for them to get back," Officer Dennison told Frank, coming into the room. "Joe will be back home where he belongs by tonight."  
  
"No," Frank said, starting to argue. "Maybe we can find out..."  
  
Dennison cut him off. "This house belongs to the Stevens," he informed Frank. "Whatever your brother is trying to get on Dobson isn't really necessary. We've already got him on two counts of murder; kidnapping; and breaking and entering. If Joe stays with Dobson, he could get hurt," he added finally, seeing nothing else he had said was having any effect on Frank.  
  
Frank nodded his acceptance. Officer Dennison was right. He could find out what they had done to Joe after they got him home. Dobson was still probably planning on killing Joe. He suddenly remembered what the other two men had said. "I've got to go home," he told the officer abruptly. "Is it okay if I come back?"  
  
"Call headquarters first," Dennison told him.   
  
Frank nodded, thanked him and ran out of the room, down the stairs and out to the van. Snatching up his cell phone, he called home. His mother answered on the second ring.  
  
"Mom, have you gotten any kind of delivery?" he asked.  
  
"No, why?" she inquired.  
  
"Look, don't answer the door for anyone until I get home," he told her. "I'm on my way now."  
  
"Okay," she replied, curious at his strange request, but years of living in a detective household had taught her now was not the time to ask questions.  
  
"And turn on the alarm system," he added before saying goodbye.  
  
Frank arrived home and pulled the van into the drive just behind his father. Getting out of the van, he called his mom to let her know she could turn off the alarm.  
  
"What's happening?" Fenton asked as he and Frank climbed the porch steps and went inside.  
  
Laura met them at the door and Fenton put an arm around her shoulders and they followed Frank into the living room.  
  
"What happened?" Laura demanded, seeing Frank's cut lip.  
  
"Joe hit me," he told his parents, causing them to gasp in surprise. He went on to tell them about his morning.  
  
"Why would Joe be mad at you?" Laura asked, confused by Joe's attitude but relieved to know he had come out of his coma and was still alive.  
  
"He wasn't just mad, he actually hated me," Frank declared.  
  
Fenton stood up. "You stay here and wait for the delivery," he ordered Frank. "But be careful," he added forcefully. "I'm going to go and wait for Joe and Dobson."  
  
Laura grabbed his arm as he moved by her. "Bring Joe home," she pleaded.  
  
He kissed her hair. "I will," he promised softly before moving away. He left, locking the door behind him. Frank turned on the alarm system after he had gone and then he and his mother sat down in the living room and waited.  
  
Less than twenty minutes had passed when the phone rang. "Hello," Frank said into the receiver, snagging it on the first ring.  
  
"Any word on Joe?" Chet's anxious voice came through.  
  
Frank told Chet about the morning's events then mentioned the delivery they were supposed to get.   
  
"I've got an idea," Chet said. "Why don't Tony, Biff and I watch your place and when they come, we can grab them."  
  
"Sounds good," Franks said, smiling. "Just make sure you stay out of sight when you get here," he cautioned.  
  
"Will do," Chet promised before hanging up.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Fenton drove past the Stevens' house and parked the car at one of the other houses. He walked back to the Stevens' house, keeping an eye out for Dobson or either of the other kidnappers. Officer Dennison let Fenton inside and they, along with Officers Spankes and Ward, waited for Dobson's and Joe's return.  
  
It was almost an hour before they heard a car pull into the drive. "It's them," Officer Ward said, peeping through a slit in the curtain.  
  
Dobson came inside first. He set two bags of groceries on the table. As Joe started through the door with his load, Officers Dennison and Spankes sprang at Dobson, each grabbing an arm and forcing them behind his back as they propelled his head and chest forward toward the table.  
  
"Run, Joe!" Dobson screamed.  
  
Joe saw the two officers holding his dad and started forward, but when he saw Officer Ward and Fenton Hardy come into view, he dropped the bags from his arms and spun around. He took off for the woods behind the house with Fenton on his heels.  
  
"Joe! Wait!" Fenton shouted as he struggled to keep up.  
  
Joe might have gotten away were it not for the muddy ground beneath his feet. He slipped and fell. By the time he had gotten to his feet, Fenton was there, grabbing onto Joe's left arm.  
  
Not thinking, just reacting, Joe turned toward Fenton, his right arm already in mid-swing. He hit Fenton squarely on the jaw, sending him thudding to the ground.  
  
Not totally unprepared, Fenton had held tight to Joe's arm and when he fell, so too, did Joe. Joe shoved his knee into Fenton's side and tried to scramble to his feet but Fenton latched onto Joe's ankle and pulled him back down. Joe kicked out, catching Fenton in the stomach, but he ignored the pain and grabbed Joe's other ankle, pulling him further down into the mud.  
  
Fenton couldn't help but be proud of his son as he struggled to subdue him. Had he been anyone else, Fenton would have been overjoyed at the fight Joe was putting up. But right now, he was running out of energy. Unfortunately, it looked like Joe had plenty left.  
  
"Calm down!" Fenton ordered Joe, finally getting on top of him and pinning his legs down with his own. He held Joe's arms down as Joe stared mutinously up at him.  
  
"Then let me go!" Joe snarled at him.  
  
"I'll let you go if you promise to calm down and tell me what's going on," Fenton said, panting.  
  
Joe glared at him, his lips pressed together firmly, then he gave a slight nod. Fenton released Joe and stood up. He held a hand out to Joe, offering to help him up.  
  
An image, lasting a bit longer than any of the others, floated in his head. It was of this man, wearing different clothing, making the same gesture but with a smile on his face. The image vanished and Fenton Hardy was once more in focus.  
  
Fenton stood, hand held out, with a quizzical expression on his face. He had seen the uncertainty in Joe's eyes for that brief instant in time. Then he saw those blue eyes harden once again.  
  
Ignoring Fenton's hand, Joe got to his feet. Then, without warning, he shoved Fenton hard. He fell back into the mud, his head smashing onto a tree limb which had borken during last night's wind. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

The blow hadn't knocked him out, but by the time Fenton had gotten to his feet, Joe was long gone.  
  
Fenton returned to the house, the mud drying and caking on him as he walked. "Are you okay? What happened?" Officer Ward asked, catching sight of Fenton, his eyes widening in surprise.  
  
Fenton ignored the officer and strode over to Dobson. Their noses almost touching, Fenton demanded in a deathly quiet voice, "What have you done to my son?"  
  
Dobson gave Fenton a sickening smile and replied, "I took him away from you."  
  
Officer Dennison yanked Dobson back as the other two officers simultaneously leapt forward and grabbed a hold of Fenton as he raised his arms to grab Dobson by the neck.  
  
Fenton glared, breathing heavily, at Dobson. Officer Dennison put Dobson in the back of one of the patrol cars that the other two officers had retrieved. After Dobson was safe in the car, Fenton was released. He turned to Officer Ward. "Put an APB out on Joe. Make sure everyone knows he can be violent but under no circumstance is he to be harmed," he stressed.  
  
"Yes, Sir," was the reply, although he would contact the Chief before actually sending out the APB.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Frank jumped to his feet as the doorbell rang. He went to the front door and peered out. There was a boy holding a box. Behind him, Frank could see a truck from the local florist. He opened the door.  
  
"Hi, Frank," the teen-aged delivery boy greeted him. Frank recognized him as Tony Lane, a guy from his history class at Bayport High School. "I've got a delivery for your dad."  
  
"Who from?" Frank asked.  
  
"I don't know," Tony replied with a slight frown. Frank's attitude was starting to bother him.  
  
"Did you see who placed the order?" Frank asked.  
  
"I only deliver," Tony said apologetically. "This has something to do with a case your dad's working on?" he asked, his green eyes curious.  
  
"I think so," Frank acknowledged, taking the box and thanking him. "Do you know who took the order?"  
  
"Tracey probably," Tony replied. "She's still at the store if you want to talk to her."  
  
"Thanks Tony," Frank said again. Tony waved and ran down the porch steps. He jumped back into the florist's van and drove off. Frank opened the card on the box and frowned. Turning around, he went inside, leaving the front door open. A few moments later, Chet, Tony, and Biff entered the house.  
  
"Well?" Biff asked, seeing Frank and his mother sitting on the couch.  
  
"Joe has been brainwashed," Frank said, handing the card over to his friends. Inside the card was a picture of Joe. The card read Joesph Dobson.  
  
"How did they do it?" Chet asked, stunned.  
  
"It's a joke," Biff said.  
  
"Yeah, Joe didn't send it," Tony agreed.  
  
Before Frank could say anything, Fenton came into the room, covered in mud from head to foot. Laura gasped, her eyes going wide. "What happened?" she asked, getting to her feet and rushing over to him.  
  
"I got into a fight with Joe and lost," Fenton said derisively. He shook his head and looked at Frank. "You were right. He does hate us. But why?"  
  
Tony handed the card to Fenton. "Joe believes he's Dobson's son?" Fenton read aloud, his voice only half incrediously.  
  
"If Dobson made him believe you killed his brother, he would hate us," Frank said.  
  
"Where is Joe?" Laura demanded. Fenton told them about Dobson's arrest and Joe's get-a-way.  
  
"How did they brainwash him so fast?" Biff asked in confusion. "They only grabbed him last night."  
  
"Amnesia," Frank said. Everyone looked over at him. "It's the only way they could have done it," he insisted. "He came out of his coma and didn't recognize anyone or anything and they fed him this line about Dobson being his dad. That's why they broke in here and took some of Joe's personal stuff. That way the room they gave him would feel like his."  
  
"I think Frank may be right," Fenton agreed.  
  
"Then how do we un-brainwash him? Or get his memory back?" Chet asked. "Hit him on the head again?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Biff snorted.  
  
"We've got to help him to remember," Frank said.  
  
"How?" Tony wnated to know. "He won't let you near him."  
  
"Not us," Frank agreed. "But I doubt if Dobson has had time to poison him against all of his friends."  
  
"Time for a pow wow," Laura declared. "Fenton, go and take a shower. Frank, use your father's phone and call Jack and Sam. Chet, take Frank's cell and call Jerry and Phil. Biff, use the living room phone and call the girls. Have everyone meet here in thirty minutes. Tony, come with me," she ordered, heading into the kitchen. "We'll make sandwiches."  
  
"Frank," Chet whispered after she and Tony had gone into the kitchen, "was your mom ever a drill sergeant?"  
  
"Talk about taking charge," Biff said, admiringly.  
  
"Hustle boys," Fenton interrupted the teasing with a grin. "If we don't do as we are told, she may put us in chains."  
  
"Wait!" Chet said. "What was in the box?"  
  
"Nothing," Frank replied. "I called the florist while you guys were coming in. Someone, the dirty blonde one, paid them to deliver an empty box so he could put the card he had brought in on it."   
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Joe had took off and climbed a tree before Fenton Hardy had regained his footing. From his vantage point, he watched as his father, Dobson, was taken away. Then he watched Hardy leave. The other two officers remained, no doubt expecting him to return.  
  
Joe climbed down from the tree and headed down the road toward Bayport. He saw a familiar car and ran into the road, waving it down.  
  
Billy brought the Cadillac to a stop and got out from behind the wheel. Darryl exited the passenger side. "Joe?" Billy asked, suspicion at his appearance. "What's wrong?"  
  
Joe told them what had happened. Darryl hugged Joe's shoulders. "We're glad you got away," he told Joe, leading him over to the car and helping him into the backseat.  
  
"But they got Dad," Joe said, his voice low and eyes sad.  
  
"We'll get him back," Billy promised, as he and Darryl climbed back ito the front seat.. "Hardy took your ma from you, we won't let him take your pa too."  
  
"It's all my fault," Joe said miserably from the back seat when they were on their way into town.  
  
"No, it's not," Billy argued. "Why would you think such a thing?"  
  
"Cause Hardy's kid was there when we left," Joe said, his voice full of guilt. "I told him if he was there when we got back, I'd kill him. Instead, he sent the cops. I should have killed him!" he said forcefully.  
  
"You know," Darryl said thoughtfully. "There's only one sure way to get your dad back."  
  
"How?" Joe asked, anxiously.  
  
"You'll have to do something illegal," Darryl warned him.  
  
"I'll do anything to get Dad back," Joe vowed heatedly. "What is it?"  
  
"We have to kidnap Frank Hardy." 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"Frank is obviously trying to get at you," Darryl said. "We'll set a trap for him. We'll get your Dad back and you can make the Hardys pay at the same time."  
  
"Can I belt him him we get him?" Joe asked, itching to make Frank pay for siccing the cops on his dad.  
  
"All you want," Darryl promised. "But we have to have him if we want to get your dad back."  
  
"All right," Joe said. "What's the plan?"  
  
************************************************************************  
  
"We've got to get him away from those other two hoods," Chet said, picking up a sandwich and taking a bite.  
  
Assembled in the living room of the Hardy house were Fenton, Laura, Frank, and Chet as well as, eighteen-year-old, dark-headed, dark-eyed, olive-skinned, Tony Prito, blond, beefy, seventeen-year-old Biff Hooper, eighteen-year-old, brown-headed, brown-eyed, brainy Phil Cohen, eighteen-year-old, black-headed, brown-eyed, dark skinned, Jerry Gilroy, seventeen-year-old, blond-headed, green-eyed, Callie Shaw, Frank's girlfriend, and sixteen-year-old, raven haired, brown-eyed, Iola, who was not only Chet's sister, but also Joe's girlfriend. Also present were Fenton's personal pilot and close friend of the family, black-headed, blue-eyed JackWayne, and brown-headed, green-eyed Sam Radley, an associate of Fenton's and life long friend of the Hardys.  
  
Fenton had explained the situation to everyone and asked for suggestions.  
  
"We have to find him first," Phil pointed out.  
  
"There's an APB out on Joe and the other two men," Fenton informed the group. "I jsut hope Joe's found before they stop playing this sick game."  
  
"And kill him," Laura said softly, finishing Fenton's thought.  
  
"When we do get Joe back, do you think he'll want to see us?" Iola inquired. "I mean, he'll think we're trying to help you."  
  
"She has a point," Frank said, discouraged. He leaned back against the sofa and ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time.  
  
"Stop that," Callie said, grabbing his hand and holding it tight. "You'll be bald before next week."  
  
"What we have to do is go out and find Joe. Remind him of the times we've had together without letting him know we're friends with the Hardys," Sam suggested.  
  
"Right," Jack agreed. "We need to get out there and start looking for him. Places where he would go if he were in hiding from the cops, which he kind of is," he added ruefully, starting to run a hand through his curly black hair but stopping when he caught Callie frowning at him.  
  
"Then let's go," Jerry said, standing up. "Tony and I will head go to the docks," he said. "That's generally a good place to hang out if you're trying to be unobtrusive."  
  
"Jack, you check out the bus stops," Fenton ordered, standing up and taking charge. "Phil, Biff, would you two check the places around the high school?" At their nod, he continued. "Chet, Iola and Callie, hit the mall. He's probably going to need clothes. Sam, you take the west end."  
  
Sam nodded and stood up. He was going to need to change to fit in there. It was a bad part of town with drug dealers, hookers, and gang members on every corner.  
  
"If he sees us, he'll run," Fenton said, "so we'll leave it up to you. Frank and Laura will be here at home, so if you see Joe, call them. I'm going down to headquarters and see if I can get Dobson to talk."  
  
"Let's split up," Callie suggested when they got to the mall. "We'll be able to cover more ground."  
  
"I'll take the food court," Chet volunteered. "Callie, you can take the west wing and Iola, you get the east," he ordered. "We'll meet back here in two hours."  
  
"Nice try, brother dear." Iola said with a grin. "But we're here to find Joe, not feed you. I'll take the food court and you can take the east wing."  
  
Chet grinned sheepishly but took off for the east side. Callie laughed and headed west.  
  
Iola entered the food court and walked slowly up the right aisle. She pretended to be looking at the menu boards, but kept glancing around at the customers. After going completely around the court once, she gave a small sigh and began the circuit again. Halfway through, she saw Joe in line at the Burger Barn.  
  
Getting in line, she bought a burger, fries, and a shake and followed Joe to a table. "Joe," she said, coming to stand across from him. "I thought that was you," she said and sat down.  
  
Joe looked at the raven haired girl in front of him, his annoyance vanishing when he saw her smile. "Do I know you?" he asked, tilting his head over to the side.  
  
Iola looked hurt. "What kind of question is that?" she asked him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I hurt my head and my memory's kind of whacked."  
  
"Oh, Joe," Iola gasped, feigning surprise. She reached over and covered his hand with hers.  
  
At once, Joe felt a jolt and a picture of this girl looking up into his eyes with tender eyes flashed through his mind. "We dated?" Joe asked hesitantly.  
  
Iola smiled as hope chorused through her. "We still do," she told him, squeezing his hand. Joe was silent, so she suggested, "Maybe I can nudge your memory."  
  
"That would be great!" Joe enthused. "Dad, Uncle Darryl and Uncle Billy have tried, but it's just not working," he told her.  
  
"Oh?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah," Joe said, his blue eyes filling with a deep sadness that nearly broke her heart. "They have tried to get me to remember my mom, but for the life of me, I can't." He looked into Iola's eyes, his own bright with unshed tears. "Why can't I remember her?" he asked.  
  
"Oh, Honey," Iola said, her voice breaking. "You will," she promised. "In time."  
  
Joe looked down at his half eaten lunch and pushed it away. "They took mom away and now they've taken Dad too," he said, anger in his voice.  
  
"Who?" Iola asked.  
  
"The Hardys, of course," Joe spat the name.  
  
"What?" she asked, her eyes going wide in real shock.  
  
"Didn't I ever tell you?" Joe asked, amazed. Iola shook her head. "Fenton Hardy shot my mom in a shoot-out at a restaurant on my parents' anniversary."  
  
Iola stared at Joe, unable to speak. 'How could they do this to Joe?' she thought.   
  
  
  
Unaware of her thoughts, Joe continued. "And this morning, Hardy's brat called the cops. When Dad and I got back from Fairfield, they were waiting at our place. They arrested Dad. Hardy tried to get me, but I got away."  
  
"Oh, Joe," Iola said, tears spilling down her cheeks at the horrible trick they were playing on Joe. She had to get through to him. "Why don't you come to my place?" she invited him. "We can talk and you might get your memory back."  
  
"Can't," Joe repled, shaking his head. "I'm going to get my Dad back."  
  
"But if he's in jail..." she began, but Joe cut her off.  
  
"My uncles came up with a plan," he informed her, smiling.  
  
"What kind of plan?" she inquired nervously.  
  
Joe shook his head. "It's better if you don't know," he told her. Another vivid flash filled his head. He could see this girl and a stout blond-headed guy having a mud fight. He frowned when the picture vanished. "Do you know a chubby blond guy?" he asked her.  
  
"A year older than me," she added, with a nod. "My brother," she informed him. "See, being with me is bringing your memory back. You really should come home with me."  
  
"I can't," Joe said, although it was obvious he wanted to. "I've got to hang out where the Hardy's might see me," he explained.  
  
"Why?" she asked.  
  
Joe shook his head. "Uh-uh," he said. "I've told you too much all ready."  
  
Iola ate a couple of fries and watched as Joe pulled his lunch closer and started eating again. "Hey," she suddenly said, getting his attention again. "Try to remember the time we went to Biff's Halloween party."  
  
"Biff?" Joe asked, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to put a face to the name.  
  
"Muscular guy, blond hair, blue eyes, about fifteen pounds heavier and two inches taller than you," Iola described him.  
  
Joe shook his head. "Sorry."  
  
"Well, you and your br...your best friend arrived at his party," she said, hoping he didn't catch her slip of the tongue. "And your friend and my brother were both wearing the same costumes. Gorillas. They carried on for ages."  
  
"Sounds fun," Joe said a bit forlornly. "I wish I could remember."  
  
"Don't you remember anything?" Iola asked.  
  
"Not really," Joe answered. "I keep getting flashes, but nothing stays in my head long enough."  
  
"Pick one," Iola ordered.  
  
"What?" Joe asked, not understanding.  
  
"Pick one of the flashes and concentrate really hard on that person's face," she told him. "Maybe you'll be able to remember something."  
  
"Okay," he replied with a shrug. He closed his eyes and concentrated real hard on Iola's face. At first, nothing came to mind, but as he thought about her long silky hair and bright smile, more images started to appear.  
  
He saw her wearing faded blue jeans and a sweatshirt two sizes too big for her. He saw her wading in a creek, laughing.  
  
"What's going on?" Darryl's voice abruptly brought the memories to a halt.   
  
"She was helping me to remember," Joe told his uncle, smiling up at him.  
  
"Was she trying to help you remember when she dumped you for Frank Hardy?" Darryl demanded, glaring at Iola.  
  
"What?" Joe asked softly, his eyes widening in shocked disbelief. He turned to look at her.  
  
"No!" Iola denied. "It isn't true!" she shouted, standing up and glaring at Darryl. "Why are you doing this to him?" she demanded. "He doesn't deserve this!"  
  
"What he doesn't deserve, are your lies," Darryl snarled at her, pulling Joe up by his arm. "You and your friends stay away from my nephew," he told Iola menancingly. "If you keep trying to interfere," he added, "someone your really care about will suffer for it." He walked away, pulling Joe with him.  
  
Iola watched them go, a look of terror on her face. She knew exactly what the man had meant. If she or anyone tried to get close to Joe again, he would kill Joe. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Iola watched them leave, then ran to the payphone at the end of the food court. "Frank!" she shouted hysterically when he answered the phone. "They told Joe your dad killed his mom."  
  
"What?" Frank demanded. Iola told Frank everything Joe had told her. Then she told Frank about Darryl's threat.  
  
"Go on home," Frank told her wearily.  
  
"There has to be something we can do," Iola argued, even though she knew it was hopeless.  
  
"You've done a lot," Frank told her. "If Joe was remembering, then he'll keep trying. Thank you," he added with feeling.  
  
"Oh Frank," she cried. "What if he never remembers?"  
  
"He will," Frank declared with certainty. "Find Chet and Callie and go home," Frank told her again. "I'll have mom spread the word to everyone else."  
  
"What are you going to do?" Iola demended, worried in case Frank went out on his own.  
  
"First, I'm going to talk to Dad," Frank told her. "He's got to know what we're up against." He thought how he would feel if he knew someone had murdered his mother. Poor Joe!  
  
"Be careful," Iola cautioned him. "If you got hurt... If Joe hurt you," she kept starting.  
  
"I know," Frank said gently. "He'd go crazy."  
  
After Frank hung up, he passed along the information to his mom and asked her to send everyone home when they checked in. Then he left the house and drove to the police station. When he asked where his father was, he was directed to Chief Collig's office. When he got there, he told his father and Chief Collig what Iola had told him.  
  
"No wonder he despises me," Fenton said, putting his face in his hands. When he looked up a moment later, Frank was astounded at how old his father looked. He wondered if he had aged over the past twenty-four hours.  
  
Fenton looked over at Frank. "They obviously want one or both of us to find Joe," he said. Frank nodded in agreement. "We'll have to give them what they want if we stand any chance of getting Joe back," Fenton concluded.  
  
"You can't!" Chief Collig argued. "Becoming hostages won't get those two behind bars."  
  
"No," Frank agreed. "But Dad nor I will buy their lies. They've put Joe on an emotional roller coaster and I'm going to get him off no matter what it takes," he vowed.  
  
Frank and his father left the station on foot. Fenton headed downtown toward the park while Frank went to check around the skating rink and bowling alley. Frank had almost reached the bowling alley when he saw Joe walking into the cinema. "One please," Frank said, racing over to get his ticket and follow Joe inside.  
  
"What movie?" the bored blond headed girl asked.  
  
"Whichever movie the last person just bought a ticket for," Frank said.  
  
"Reject from Planet Weird," she replied. "Eight dollars," she added, pulling up the ticket.  
  
Frank paid her and went inside. He saw Joe sitting in the eighth row. He had been easy to spot since there was only one other person in the theater.  
  
"Don't run away," Frank begged, sitting down beside Joe. "I'm not going to hurt you," he added, his face pleading with Joe to believe him.  
  
"You had my dad arrested," Joe snarled at him.  
  
"Please try to remember me," Frank said, knowing Joe wouldn't believe anything he had to say.  
  
"Why would I want to?" Joe demanded, his blue eyes shooting sparks.  
  
"If I told you, would you believe me?" Frank asked. ""Look," he said with a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes so Joe couldn't see the anger in his eyes. Not at Joe, but at the men who had done this to his brother. "They have been lying to you. The only way you're going to know the truth is if you remember."  
  
When he quit speaking, he opened his eyes, expecting Joe to be glaring at him. But Joe was too busy chasing images to pay any attention to Frank. As soon as Frank had put his hand in his hair, Joe had been bombarded with images of Frank Hardy and hadn't heard anything he had said.  
  
Joe saw Frank laughing; concerned; anxious; crying; hurt. All these images flitted through his mind, but one image kept coming back. The image of Frank looking at him and saying the words "baby brother." Joe began to feel sick.  
  
Frank, noticing Joe's sudden lack of color, reached over and pushed Joe's head to his knees. "Breathe," he ordered.  
  
Joe did, and when he sat back up a minute later, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Frank," Joe said softly as he looked at him.  
  
"Yeah?" Frank asked a little hesitantly.  
  
"I..." Joe began, then took a deep breath and blinked the tears away. "I want my father back," he said.  
  
Frank sighed in defeat. He had been so sure he had seen recognition in Joe's eyes. "You're coming home with me," he told Joe.  
  
"No," Joe stated, his eyes hard and determined. "You are coming with us."  
  
"Us?" Frank demanded in surprise.  
  
The other occupant came over to stand behind Frank. In his hand was a gun which he aimed at Frank. "That's right, Frankie boy," Darryl told him. "You took Joe's daddy and we want him back."  
  
"The police won't trade," Frank told him firmly.  
  
"Then you'll die," Darryl assured him.  
  
"Uncle Darryl," Joe said, standing up and grabbing Frank's arm. "Let's get out of here."  
  
"Sure thing," Darryl agreed. "We'll use the back exit."  
  
Darryl followed Joe and Frank outside. "Joe, you drive," Darryl ordered. Joe got behind the wheel while Darryl forced Frank into the back. Joe drove through down town Bayport and headed out the west end of town. Two miles out, he made a right turn onto an unpaved road. A little farther along, he made another right turn onto a gravel road. He drove to the end of the road and stopped the car.  
  
"You get Uncle Billy," Joe told Darryl after they had got out of the car. "I'll tie him up and then we'll call Hardy and get my dad."  
  
"Can you handle him?" Darryl asked.  
  
Joe grabbed Frank and pulled both his arms behind his back. "Piece of cake," Joe assured him, forcing Frank into the garage where a chair and rope were waiting.  
  
"Joe, please..." Frank began after Darryl had left.  
  
Joe pushed Frank farther into the garage, out of sight of Darryl, and let go of one of Frank's arms and spun him around with the other. Frank cringed, expecting Joe to hit him but gasped in utter amazement when Joe threw his arms around him and hugged him.  
  
"Joe," Frank said softly, hugging him back. Frank pulled away and grasped Joe's face in his hands, looking into his eyes. "You remember?" Joe nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "Let's get out of here and call the police," Frank said.  
  
"No," Joe disagreed with a shake of his head. "These guys have got to go to jail," he insisted.  
  
"Dad can take care of them," Frank argued. "He was working on the case to put Dobson and his men away before you got hurt."  
  
"We thought so," Billy said, coming into the garage. "Good work Joe," he added.  
  
"Thanks Uncle Billy," Joe replied, wiping his eyes and smiling at him. "Now what?"  
  
"Tie Frank up," Billy told him. "I'll deal with the older Hardy."  
  
Frank, feeling hurt and betrayed by Joe, but angrier still at the men who had brainwashed his brother, was too taken by surprise to put up a fight. Joe pushed him into the chair and started tying Frank's hands as Billy left. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"Just relax," Joe told Frank. Frank smiled. Joe may not have realized it, but he had just given Frank their secret signal which meant to take a deep breath and flex his muscles. After he was tied and he relaxed, the ropes would easily come off.  
  
After Joe had finished tying Frank to the chair, he removed the bandana he had been wearing around his neck. He started to gag Frank with it but Frank spoke before he could put it in.  
  
"Joe, think about what you're doing," Frank begged. "You know this doesn't feel right."  
  
"Actually, it feels perfect," Joe replied with a Cheshire smile. "Two people," he said, "plus one," he added as an afterthought. Frank paled when he thought of his mother. "Are going to be very sorry for these past twenty-four hours." Joe looked down at Frank and his expression changed.  
  
"Easy big bro," Joe whispered, causing Frank's eyes, again, to widen in shock. "I came to my senses in the theater, but Darryl was there."  
  
"Then why are you tying me up?" Frank demanded angrily.  
  
"You can get free," Joe told him, whispering. "I've got to go before they get suspicious." Frank glared at Joe. "I saw Dad down town and, more importantly, he saw us. He'll be here with back up soon," Joe promised. "The evidence Dad needs against these two guys is here," he added. "Just get free and wait."  
  
"But..." Frank began but Joe put the gag in his mouth just as Billy came back into the garage.  
  
"You okay?" Billy asked Joe.  
  
"Yeah," Joe said. "Just making sure it was tight so he couldn't get away and ruin everything."  
  
Billy smiled at Joe. "He won't. By this time tomorrow, you'll have your dad back and the Hardys will never bother us again."  
  
Frank watched as Joe forced a relieved smile onto his face. "And he suffers for what he did to mom?" Joe asked.  
  
"You bet," Billy promised. "Let's get out of here." Outside the garage, Billy put a hand on Joe's arm. "Does he believe you're on his side now?"  
  
"I caught him hook, line, and sinker," Joe responded, smiling brightly. "And the ropes are loose enough so he can get free."  
  
"Good boy," Billy praised him. "And you're sure Hardy saw us drive by?"  
  
"Positive," Joe affirmed.  
  
Smiling brightly, Billy preceeded Joe into the house. "Okay Joe," Darryl said, handing Joe a gun. "You know what you're supposed to do?"  
  
"Force Fenton into the garage. If he refuses, shoot at the ground and Frank will come running out. Then I shoot Frank."  
  
"And if he goes to the garage willingly?" Darryl prompted.  
  
"Shoot at the ground near the garage door," Joe answered. "Frank will come running out and I shoot him."  
  
Joe left the twosome and went outside. On his way to his chosen vantage point, he poked his head in the garage. "Free yet?" he asked Frank.  
  
Frank nodded, but didn't answer because he had left the gag in his mouth. "I'm supposed to shoot you," Joe told him. "I'll miss of course, but act like I hit you." Frank nodded his agreement and Joe headed for his tree.  
  
Joe didn't have long to wait. He saw Fenton emerge through some trees with several officers behind him. Joe waited. There was the sound of cars starting behind the officers. 'Billy and Darryl's diversion,' Joe thought.   
  
The officers turned and ran toward the squad cars, but Fenton, suspecting it was a decoy, stayed where he was. Joe climbed down to the lowest branch then dropped the rest of the way to the ground. He stealthily made his way behind Fenton and stopped, holding the gun in front of him. "Hi," Joe said.  
  
Fenton spun around, nearly losing his footing on the still too wet ground. "Joe," Fenton said softly, seeing the gun in his youngest son's hand. "Let me have the gun," he said, holding out a hand. "You don't want to hurt anyone."  
  
"That's not entirely true," Joe disagreed with a slight shake of his head. "There are definitely two people here this evening who are going to get hurt."  
  
"Where's Frank?" Fenton asked, paling.  
  
"You'll see him soon enough," Joe promised, his face hard. "Move," he ordered Fenton, coming closer.  
  
Fenton turned and started walking toward the house. Joe came up close, the gun still trained on him. "Don't believe what you see," Joe whispered near Fenton's ear, his lips barely moving. Then, as they neared the house, Joe fired a shot at the bottom of the garage door.  
  
Frank came running outside, coming to a sudden stop when he saw Joe holding a gun on his father. Before Frank or Fenton could react, Joe raised the gun and fired.  
  
Frank cried out and fell to the ground. "Frank!" Fenton screamed the name, rushing over to kneel by his eldest son. "What have you done?" Fenton yelled.  
  
"What we wanted him to do," Darryl said, coming from beside the house. Billy moved out into the open from behind Joe.  
  
"I'll take that now," Billy told Joe, taking the gun away from Joe.  
  
Joe looked at Fenton. "Now we're going to get Dad back."  
  
"Sorry Kid," Darryl said with an evil laugh. "After tonight, you'll never see him again."  
  
"What?" Joe asked, feigning confusion.  
  
"Dobson ain't your dad, Kid," Billy told him. "And I certainly ain't your uncle."  
  
"Then why?" Joe demanded, looking from Billy to Darryl and finally coming to rest on Billy who now held the gun on him.  
  
"To get your old man out of the way dufus," Billy told him. "To be honest, we were glad when your old man busted Dobson." Joe looked at Fenton. "That's right Kid, he's your real dad."  
  
"Why didn't you just kill me and leave my sons out of this?" Fenton demanded angrily.  
  
"Dobson was in charge and he made the rules, until you caught him," Darryl said.  
  
"So you two really are the bad guys," Joe said as if realization had just dawned.  
  
"That would be you," Billy sneered. "You did just kill your own brother."  
  
Darryl looked at Fenton. "Because of you, we had to close up shop. You deserve all the pain we can inflict on you."  
  
"I don't know about that," Joe said a bit cockily.  
  
"If you're expecting the cops back, Joey boy, forget it," Billy told him. "After they took off after their cars, I closed the fence and turned on the juice. They try to get back in here and they fry."  
  
"Now," Darryl said. "Both of you, into the garage. It's getting a bit cool out here," he added with a sickening grin.  
  
"Nice night for a fire," Billy agreed.  
  
Joe stood his ground even as his father bent down to lift Frank off the ground. "I will shoot you," Darryl told him. Joe never moved. He locked eyes with Darryl, defying him to pull the trigger.  
  
"Joesph!" Fenton shouted as Darryl squeezed the trigger and the sound of gunfire blasted into the night.  
  
Darryl stared at Joe in amazement for a mere fraction of a second before whipping out another weapon and firing at Joe.  
  
Joe laughed as Frank jumped to his feet. In an instant, Frank had knocked Billy's gun from his hand and knocked him out with a single blow. Fenton had rushed Darryl, knocking him sideways and landing on top of him. Caught unaware, Darryl never had a chance to fight back as Fenton began raining down blow upon blow on the man.  
  
"Easy Dad!" Joe shouted, reaching out and grabbing his father's hand in mid-blow.  
  
Fenton's crazed eyes met Joe's tender ones and he stood up and pulled Joe to him, squeezing so tight that Joe had to take deep breaths when his father finally released him. Frank came over and enveloped Joe in a tight, quick bear hug. "This has been the longest twenty-four hours of my life," Frank told Joe. "Don't ever do that to me again!"  
  
Joe looked down at his watch. Frank was right. Three more minutes and it would be time for the show they had started to watch last night when they had seen the brick thrower.  
  
"What happened?" Darryl asked, dazed, as he sat up.  
  
"You lost," Frank told him grimly, itching to launch a few blows of his own at the man.   
  
"I put blanks in all the guns," Joe told him.  
  
"When?" Darryl demanded.  
  
"After I talked to Iola," Joe told him. "She made me remember enough to question what you were up to," he continued. "So I started looking around while you two were busy. I found your powder," he added and looked over at his father. "It's hidden in the upholstery of their car. That is why you were after these guys in the first place?" Fenton nodded.  
  
"Where did you get the blanks?" Darryl demanded. "We didn't have any and we watched you every minute you were in public."  
  
"Whoever owns this house had lots of blanks," Joe told him. "They were in a box on the floor of one of the closets."  
  
"So when did you get your memory back?" Frank demanded. "When Iola talked to you?"  
  
Joe shook his head. "She just made me think," he said. "In the theater when you did that hair thing you're always doing. That's when I started remembering." Joe paused and looked sheepishly at his father and brother. "I'm sorry I hit you," he told Frank, then looked at his dad. "I'm sorry I beat you up," he said. "I..."  
  
"It's okay, Son," Fenton told him. "Just promise me one thing," he said, as the police rushed forward, having had the electric company disconnect the power.  
  
"What?" Joe asked warily.  
  
"If anyone ever does attack you and it's not me or your brother, promise you'll put up just as good a fight."  
  
"Ah, Dad," Joe said, grinning.  
  
The police arrived and took Darryl and Billy into custody. Joe showed them where the drugs were hidded, then he, Frank and their dad were taken back to the police station to press charges.  
  
"Joe should go back to the hospital for a check-up," Frank said once they were on their way home.  
  
"I'm fine," Joe insisted, just wanting to go home.  
  
"Well, you're still going to our family doctor first thing in the morning," Fenton stated, his tone allowing for no argument. "I called your mother and told her we were bringing you home," he added. "But we were disconnected before I could tell her you had your memory back."  
  
They arrived home a few minutes later. Fenton unlocked the living room door and he, Frank and Joe went inside. As soon as they entered, there was a chorus of "Welcome home," from the multitude of people in the living room.  
  
Before Fenton or Frank could tell everyone Joe was okay, Joe walked over to Iola, took her in his arms and kissed her. "Thank you," he told her, as he moved his lips away and looked down into her eyes.   
  
"You're back," she whispered, then leapt at him, knocking him back onto the sofa. She fell on top of him and kissed him until Chet grabbed her waist and pulled her off of him.  
  
"Let him breathe," Chet begged her. "You'll put him back in the hospital!"  
  
Joe, grinning, grabbed her arm and pulled her back onto his lap. He looked over at Frank and gave him a wink.  
  
Frank grinned back, relieved to have Joe back home where he belonged.  
  
  
  
End 


End file.
